The Winter of our Discontent
by soulback
Summary: An alternative ending to DPS. Following the death of Neil's father, Neil struggles to return to Welton. Mostly Todd's POV.  Language, themes
1. One

**Egads! I think I've finished this story. I don't handle writing longer fics very well (and yes, 5k is a longer fic to me!) because it's like trying to juggle 50 eggs and you know by the end that you've dropped at least three dozen of them and now, literally, have egg on your face... but OH WELL.** **And besides, I've used up all the ink in my pen and my post-DPS angst is over. So it must be finished.  
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**Without further ado, I present Chapter 1 of... The Winter of our Discontent.**

**(I literally just decided on that title then.)**

**Disclaimer: DPS isn't mine. Reviews are most excellent things. (You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.)**

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><p>When Neil knew he wanted to be an actor, it became one of the two things in life that he had always known, and one of the two things in his life worth fighting for – and so, when his father outright forbids him from returning to the play, forbids him from returning to Welton, and tells him that without a doubt he will study to become a doctor, Neil <em>fights<em>.

He stands there in his Puck costume and his overcoat and his sweating, livid skin, and he pleads. He reasons. He cries. He threatens.

Every time his mother tries to calm him with meaningless words or his father tells him that _that's the end of the matter_, Neil goes back for more. He shouts things in the heat of the battle that he would never dare to even think in peace time, flecks of spit flying from his mouth.

"You're not a father," he yells. "You don't want what's best for me. You don't even _love me_. You're just _sending me to hell. Well, I hope you go there too._"

Mr Perry's face turns a purple-grey colour that Neil will never forget, and he raises his hand. But he doesn't hit Neil; instead, he coughs, and holds his hand over his chest; he reaches out to grab at something, anything; his hand grasps thin air and he falls to the floor.

Mrs Perry screams.

Neil stands there, sparks flying from his eyes until he realises his father isn't moving.

And although an ambulance is called for and Mr Perry is rushed to the hospital, that is the last time Neil will see his father alive. Those are the last words he will say to him.

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><p>In the few short days following Mr Perry's death, murmur becomes rumour and rumour becomes fact: Mr Perry died of shock, because his son, Neil Perry, would not respect him or obey his wishes, and in the end, broke his heart.<p>

Not that the parents at Welton Academy _blame_ Neil as such – they're more inclined to sympathise and pity the 'poor boy' who was led astray by the irresponsible and frankly _communistic_ goading of that English teacher (if, indeed, he could be called a 'teacher'), Mr John Keating. The tidal wave of parental approval turns against Mr Keating and by the end of the term, two families have withdrawn their boys from the school. The Dead Poets Society is routed out and Mr Keating is asked by the principal if he would like to submit his resignation.

Neil's mother does not force Neil to change schools, but he does not return to Welton until after the winter break.


	2. Two

_Everything's different_.

Todd looks around the bare dormitory room and wonders for a moment if he's in the wrong one – possibly the mirror reflection of last term's room – but Charlie and Cameron are across the hall, and Knox has just dragged his suitcase into the room next door; and Neil stands unpacking with his back to Todd.

Todd flops down onto the bare bed next to his unopened case, and stares out the window. When he transferred to Welton, it was summer – freshly cut grass, the smell of jasmine flowers, warm air wafting through the open window; the fear and the promise of making friends; the possibility of a new start. Now the window is closed, the glass is frosted over, and the world outside is cold and still. The only thing this semester promises is work, work, work.

And Neil. When Neil introduced himself at the start of the year, it was the first time Todd had ever seen him; but there was something in the way he looked, the way he talked and shouted and goofed around that reminded Todd of a feeling (a fear, a promise) he couldn't quite put his finger on, but instinctively knew was there, deep inside. Now Neil's face is as familiar as the back of Todd's hand – but as he silently unpacks his suitcase, it is only _familiar_ – it is not Neil himself –

"Hey, Todd."

"Oh, hey, Knox." Todd turns from the window and the two boys smile at each other.

"Neil, um – " Knox scratches the back of his hand. Neil stands holding a pair of shoes. "I'm really sorry. About your father. If there's anything I can do – "

"Thanks," says Neil.

Knox pats him on the shoulder and leaves the room, and Pitts appears in the doorway, almost as if they had co-ordinated the timing of their visits. Pitts seems taller and less sure of what to do with his limbs than ever.

"Hey, Todd."

"Hi Pitts."

"Neil, I just wanted to say – " but Pitts finds he is unable to say it, as his face twists into a sort of half-smile, half-frown. He pauses, before stepping into the room and giving Neil an awkward hug. Then he leaves.

"Morning, Todd."

"What's up, Meeks?"

"Hey, Neil," says Meeks, more calm than Pitts. "If you need any help with your Trig or Latin – you know who to call."

"Well, thanks." Neil smiles politely as he hangs his shirts up.

"I'll see you around, kid," Meeks says, pointing his finger at Todd. Neil shoots a look at Todd over his shoulder, but doesn't comment.

"Neil, listen – " Cameron barely gets his head through the door before Charlie appears behind him.

"Get out of here, Cameron," he growls. Cameron pulls a face that Charlie can't see, and disappears.

"The fink ratted on us," says Charlie, loud enough for the retreating boy to hear, "so we don't talk to him anymore. How's it going, Todd?"

"It's alright, thanks."

"Neil – " and Charlie is serious for a moment – then he shakes his head. "We'll talk later, okay? He whacks Neil on the arm as he leaves.

The room falls silent.

"We - we're all glad you're back," says Todd.

Neil doesn't respond, as he unpacks his books. Todd looks over the titles, tries again.

"Oh, you're taking physics this semester?"

"Yup." Neil drops the books onto the desk with a bang.

"Not history?"

"Nope."

"Oh." Todd thinks about it. "But that means you're taking Trig, Calculus, Chemistry, and Physics – you're taking the big four."

Neil sighs. "I need them to get into Harvard."

"_Har_vard? To study – ?"

"Medicine."

Before Todd can stop himself, he blurts, "But you hate medicine! You've never wanted to be a doctor."

Neil finally turns to Todd. "Well, I do now. And I don't think it's really any of your business."

"I'm – sorry. I didn't mean – "

"Forget it."

If Todd is stung by Neil's words, he tries not to show it, as he starts unpacking his own things. He comes across a small green book in amongst his History and Latin texts.

"Oh!" he says, as if suddenly remembering. "Mr Keating asked me to give this to you."

"What is it?" Neil turns the book over and looks in the inside cover. _Leaves of Grass_, with 'John Keating' scrawled in the top right corner – Keating's own dog-eared copy. Neil nods, and slips it casually onto the pile without a second glance.

"He thought you'd like that," says Todd. "He says he's sorry he missed you, and about – you know – " Todd draws in a deep breath.

"I don't really want to talk about it. If that's okay."

Todd nods, and the two finish unpacking in silence.

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><p>The rest of the day passes quickly, and Todd doesn't have time to talk to Neil let alone to himself in his own meandering way, as they jump straight in the deep end in all their classes. Even in English they're already assigned essays and a short report on the use of metaphor in Shakespeare's sonnets. Todd is keenly aware that Mr Keating is missing from the front, the back, the insides out of the class. When their new English teacher, Mr Bourke, is writing on the board, Todd sneaks a look at Neil to get his opinion – but Neil is staring straight ahead, taking down notes. Meeks notices Todd, however, and shrugs his shoulders.<p>

That night when they're finally alone in the dorm again, Neil seems very much not interested in talking about anything at all. At ten o'clock, half an hour before 'lights out', he's already tucked up in bed, his back to the room.

Todd switches the light off and stares at the slanted squares of moonlight projected through the window. Last semester, Neil would already be in his bed by now, curling around the boy like a bear. Now, the sheets are cold, and Todd shivers. He looks across the room but Neil remains resolutely still. Todd sighs.

Later in the night Todd thinks he hears Neil sniff; he listens intently for another sound, a possible invitation for him to go and comfort Neil, but the room is quiet. In the silent night of the cold dormitory room, Todd realises that what they did and who they were together has been lost without a fight.


	3. Three

**I'm slowly falling in love with Charlie. I've got big plans for him in a later chapter :D**

**Disclaimer: DPS isn't mine. **

**I love reviews like a fat kid likes chocolate cake.**

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><p>In study hall on Thursday evening, Charlie, Knox, Pitts, Meeks, and Todd sit huddled at a table in the corner. They are not even clear themselves what, if anything, they are planning, but the need to share something between them holds them together.<p>

Neil enters the hall and appears not to see the boys as he sits at a desk opposite Cameron, his back to the group.

"Neil! Over here!" hisses Pitts, waving his hands while trying to avoid the attention of Mr Macallister. Meeks is quicker to understand, and looks sad. Charlie, who is sitting next to Todd, nudges the blonde boy in the shoulder, and nods demonstratively at Neil.

Todd taps his pencil on the desk. He still hasn't gotten a word out of Neil when they've been alone in their dormitory – but stubbornly hopeful, he drops the pencil and climbs out from the bench.

Since that day when Todd quite literally stood up for Mr Keating, he has been something of an unspoken leader for the Poets. Buoyed by their confidence in him, he approaches Neil and slides quietly in next to him.

"Hey."

Neil sighs audibly and reads through his homework under his breath; but the sideways flicker of his eye belies his curiosity. Todd doesn't go away.

"I'm studying," Neil says, and before he can stop himself, he adds, "What's up?"

"Do you – want to join us tonight?" Todd asks, speaking low, but aware that Cameron can definitely still hear him.

Todd remembers a time not too long ago when it was Neil coming over to _him _in study hall, bargaining with him to join the society.

"The _club_ has been disbanded," says Cameron. "It's strictly against school rules, and anyone caught participating in club activities – " here Cameron looks pointedly at the boys in the back; Charlie narrows his eyes at him in return – "will be suspended. Or, expelled." He seems to take some delight in this prospect.

Charlie has a short tolerance for Cameron's whining these days. He strides over to put a bit of pressure on the situation.

"Come on, Neil," he says, leaning on the desk on the other side. "We're not talking about the _society_. It's just us."

"What's the difference?" Neil asks, frowning over his Trigonometry book. "They're right. Keating was a bad influence, and – I don't want any part of it."

Todd is so pained by Neil's condemnation of their English teacher and, by association, their friends, that Neil can't bear to look at him, and gets annoyed with him instead.

"If you sit with us, I'll get Meeks to do your homework," offers Charlie.

"Hey, when I spoke up against Keating, you punched me in the face," says Cameron.

"Shut up or I'll do it again," says Charlie. "What do you say, Neil?"

"Come on, Neil. Please," says Todd.

"You boys – quit your yappering and get back to your work," Mr Macallister calls from behind his newspaper.

"Forget it, guys. Just – forget it." Neil shakes his head and leans over his books. Cameron shoots Charlie a victorious look, and Charlie slams his fits onto the table, making everyone in the room jump.

"I said that's _enough_, Mr Dalton – "

"Sorry, Sir. March fly." Charlie brushes an imaginary fly off his hand onto the desk; Cameron looks disgusted, and Charlie gives him one last _look_ before he and Todd return to the others.


	4. Four

Sometimes when Todd wakes up in the morning, Neil is already at his desk, studying; and sometimes when Todd goes to bed at night, he has to sleep with the light on, as Neil hunches over his Calculus and Physics notebooks.

Neil doesn't enjoy it, Todd knows that; most people don't grimace when they are working at something they love. Todd asked Meeks about it, and it seems that Neil has refused Meeks' help. He is determined to do it alone.

And he's suffering for it. Todd wasn't sure on their first day back, but now he's positive – Neil's lost weight. He's always had elfishly high cheekbones, but now they're too sharp, too cold. His wrist bones are prominent, and Todd can't help but notice the curve of each individual bone on Neil's spine when he gets dressed. Todd has taken to surreptitiously observing Neil at the dinner table, keeping tabs on how much he puts on his plate and how much is left by the end of the meal; it hurts him to do it, but he can't help it. He also leaves chocolate bars on Neil's desk some Sunday afternoons after he and the other boys have taken time off their studies to go into town; the bars are still there the next morning, untouched.

"Thanks, but I don't really want chocolate right now," Neil will say.

"But you're – "

"What?"

_Too thin, too bony, too sad_.

"Nothing," says Todd. "I'll give it Pitts."

They hardly see him these days, this whisper of a boy. Todd thinks he's literally had the light sucked out of him. He knows it can't be easy to have one's father die and to feel in some way responsible for it; but Todd waits and waits, weeks pass, and the icy snow gives way to muddy ground, the frozen lake starts lapping at the shore, and all manner of tiny buds start pushing their determined way to the surface – and still the light doesn't return.

"We have to do something about it," Todd says to Charlie one evening.

Charlie seems less worried. "He's grieving, he's in mourning."

"He's not well," says Todd. "We have to do something."


	5. Five

One evening in spring, Todd and Neil are working quietly at their desks; quietly, that is, until Todd closes his history book with a bang.

"Do you want to go for a walk?" he says, as if suddenly inspired.

"No thanks." Neil doesn't even turn around, doesn't look up from his Chemistry text.

"Okay, but I have a great idea," says Todd, slapping Neil on the shoulder. "Let's go for a walk!"

"I said 'no thanks' – and besides," – now Neil does raise his head, suspiciously – "it's eight o'clock, and I know for a fact you have a history exam tomorrow."

Todd sighs the sigh of the long-suffering. "Well, I'm going for a walk – "

"Fine."

"And you're coming with me."

"Todd, what – " Neil turns to his roommate. As always, Todd's looks like the sort of boy that old ladies fuss over and smile approvingly at from park benches. There's no room in that face for such an authoritative voice. "Since when did you – "

"This is important, Neil."

Neil stares into the corner of the room, completely taken off-guard. He is also just a little bit curious. Finally he shakes his head in disbelief as he puts on his coat and shoes under the watchful eye of Todd.

"Great. Let's go." Todd leads Neil out into the hall.

"What about the other guys?" asks Neil, noting the unusual silence and closed doors of the dormitory wing.

Todd grabs Neil's arm impatiently. "We don't have all day."

Once outside, Todd takes off his scarf and hands it to Neil. "Tie this around your eyes."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No. Just kidnapping you." Todd pushes Neil around and ties the scarf about his head, and he grins – at last they're doing _something_, something like they used to do in the days before it all. He takes Neil's hand and leads him in the dark, across the oval and to the edge of the woods.

"I know where we're going," says Neil grumpily, nearly tripping over for the third time on the soft undergrowth. "If blindfolding me is meant to keep it a surprise, it's not working."

But his curiosity allows him to be lead on, following the familiar path through the woods until they reach the Indian Cave.

"_Now _can I take the scarf off?" says Neil, as he bumps his head and stacks it on the loose rocks of the opening.

"No."

Grimacing and cursing, the boys slip-slide their way into the cave. Todd realises that Neil probably hasn't been in here since – well, for a very long time – and he looks around to make sure everything's ready.

"Okay – okay, _now_." He whips the scarf away from Neil's head, pleased at the scene before them.

The cave is lit up by torchlight, and a pirate, a sailor, a ghost, and Knox emerge from the shadows.

"Ahoy, me hearties," says Charlie, with a feather in his cap and a pipe in his mouth. "Welcome to my fine old ship. But as yet ye be unfit to step aboard! First Mate Meeks, bring out the booty!"

"Yes sir!" says Meeks, dragging a box out into the middle of the floor.

"Thank goodness you're here," adds Pitts, rattling his chain. "Now we can start the feast."

"_Don't mind Knox. He thinks being a jock is a radical change_," Charlie whispers loudly to Todd, noticing his disappointed face at Knox's unimaginative 'costume'. "And look!" He flicks the lid of the box open with a spatula that extends out of his coat sleeve, to reveal a treasure trove of old clothes and props.

"Anything you like, Neil. You can be anything you like," says Todd softly from behind, as he takes off his coat to reveal a poet's garb.

Neil stares around the cave, trying to take it all in – the grinning faces of his friends, the hastily put together feast that spills out onto the floor, the Pandora's box of hopes and dreams that promises him he can be whoever he wants, at least for one night –

He turns and points his finger at Todd.

"You."

Todd smiles, bashful.

"This was your idea. It _reeks_ of you – "

"You don't like it," Todd mumbles into his fake beard.

"No, I don't – what the hell did you think would happen? That you'd kidnap me and drag me into this gloomy, this dank smelly old cave to play dress-ups and suddenly everything would be okay?"

Todd says nothing as he tugs at his beard, worriedly.

"Neil, come on," says Meeks, soothingly. "We weren't trying to – "

"It's just a bit of fun," says Pitts, from underneath his stripy sheet.

"How is it going to be okay, Todd?" Neil says, ignoring them both. "Just tell me how any of this is going to be okay. I mean, look at you all, sitting around like you can be anything you want." He doesn't look away from Todd, as his voice rises. "But I fought for my dreams, I fought for what I wanted to be, I 'seized the day', and now my father's _dead_." He pauses, breathing hard, then drops his voice to a dangerous tone. "But you're a rational guy, Todd. You think about things."

"Neil – " Charlie says, warningly. He too is ignored.

"- so tell me what it all means, Todd. Tell me there's a reason for everything, tell me what the silver lining is 'cause I sure as hell can't see it."

Todd pulls off his beard, and falls down onto a rock. "I don't know."

"_Tell me_."

Todd looks around the cave for support, but all he gets is shrugs and worried frowns. When he dares to speak, his voice is thin and scared. He shakes his head. "You want to be a doctor now, you want to help people. Maybe that's – I don't _know_, Neil," he trails off, waving his hand in the air, a meaningless gesture.

"If I had wanted to be a doctor in the first place my father wouldn't be dead now _so what's the fucking point_?" Neil screams. "You _don't get it_."

Todd is silent. Neil spins around.

"You don't – I can't – " He scrambles out of the cave.

"Neil, wait – " calls Todd.

"Stay here, kiddo," says Charlie. He pushes Todd back onto the rock and nearly falls over himself. "Damn this stupid leg."

He unties the broom handle from his knee and releases his leg from where it's been tucked up behind him; then he grabs a torch, and follows Neil out into the night.


	6. Six

**I've gotten slack already with writing these bold-text introduction bits. But I hope you like this chapter. Because Charlie's awesome. Three billion bonus points if you know where I got the idea for the ending from. xx**

**Disclaimer: DPS isn't mine.**

**Please review? (You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours.)  
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><p>Charlie finally finds Neil on the soccer oval, sitting with his back against one of the goal posts at the far end and shredding blades of grass into pieces. Charlie lopes across the field and sits casually against the other post. He removes his large black hat with the feather, and searches in the band.<p>

"Smoke?" he asks, triumphantly pulling out a crumpled packet.

Neil shakes his head.

Charlie sighs, stretches his legs, and flicks out a box of matches from the pocket of his overcoat. He puffs in on the cigarette to light it, then tosses the burnt match onto the grass.

Charlie and Neil have been best friends since Charlie invited Neil to his 'Cowboys and Indians' themed seventh birthday party, and Neil was the only other boy at the party who dressed as an Indian. They painted their faces with chocolate icing from the cake, suffered a walloping defeat, and earned eternal glory in each other's eyes. Charlie is one of the few people on earth who knows just how deep Neil runs. Neil is the only person who knows how deep Charlie runs.

Charlie looks at the cigarette in his hand thoughtfully. "Now I don't like to preach," he says, "So I've just got until the end of this cigarette."

Neil picks another a blade of grass, as Charlie takes a long drag of the cigarette.

"You don't have to – "

"Remember when my mother died?" Charlie cuts him off.

Five years ago Charlie's mother died in a car crash. It was established that the driver of the other car, who survived, had been drunk. Charlie seems okay _now_, in his own bizarre, devil-may-care way, but Neil remembers when Charlie was a total wreck.

"Yeah."

"It was like – I felt like I was lost in an ocean of crazy," Charlie says softly, waving his cigarette in the air. "I thought for sure I would go under – but I kept a hold of this thing, this answer, as if it were a life-buoy. I didn't know what the answer _was_, but it kept me afloat for a while, and I thought if I could find it, it might turn into a big fucking boat and take me to shore."

He coolly blows a smoke ring into the night air.

"Of course," he says, coughing. "Some things don't have answers. They don't mean anything, and if you keep holding onto them trying to find out what they mean, you'll drive yourself crazy. Well – crazier."

Neil stops tearing the grass.

"I'm not saying there is no meaning and I'm not telling you what to do, 'cause you're my best friend and a smart kid and I don't even know.

"But what finally helped me, I only realised a few months ago when – well, when Keating started – don't give me that look – is I let go of the answer and just floated on my back in that crazy fucking ocean. And sometimes I got water up my nose and a few times I nearly did go under, but – hey, this is a pretty good analogy," Charlie says, pleased with his words and breaking the spell of them in the process. Neil snorts back a laugh and smiles despite himself.

"Anyway. Floating there, you know, eventually you learn to swim a little." Charlie flicks ash onto the grass, and looks at the rest of the cigarette. "Just enough," he decides. "What I'm saying is – and just let me get this in before I can't stand to be serious any longer – is that you can't change the past, and – Todd can't change the past, either – "

Neil snaps his head up at the mention of the name.

" – so stop trying to _make_ him change the past and then blaming him when he can't, cause he's not a superhero, but he's a fucking awesome kid, and when you wake up in the middle of the night with pain you can hardly bare – and I know you do, Neil, I've seen you some mornings – then you best hope you've got someone around who loves you like he does."

He takes a last drag of the cigarette and stubs it out onto into the dirt. "Right, well – I'm done, so – " He leaps to his feet and bounces an imaginary soccer ball in front of him. Neil smiles weakly.

"Let's play!" Charlie lets the imaginary ball fall to the ground and starts dribbling it, bouncing it off the soles of Neil's shoes.

"You're crazy," Neil says. He wonders in what way Charlie meant '_loves you like he does'_, and then looks at Charlie with the brown pencil scars on his cheeks and the sock-puppet pinned to his shoulder, and decides that it doesn't really matter. "You've lost the plot, Dalton."

"Welcome to the club," says Charlie, smirking. "Now _play_."

Neil hesitates before jumping up and attempting to tackle the imaginary ball from Charlie, but Charlie is too quick and easily dribbles it out of the way.

"Defend your goal, Perry!" he shouts, before booting the 'ball' into the net. Too late, Neil lunges for it, and lands in the mud. He ignores Charlie's laughter as he grits his teeth with determination and grabs the 'ball' from the back of the net.

"Yeah, well – bet you can't do this!" he says, balancing the 'ball' on his nose and then dropping it to the ground and kicking it to the other end of the field.

The two boys look at each other for a moment, before charging down the field, pushing and shoving each other with whoops and war-cries all the way.


	7. Seven

**If you've made it this far, I love you. I really do. **

**The end.**

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><p>Todd and the other boys dawdle back to the dormitories in silence. As they each enter their own rooms, Knox gives Todd a pat on the back, Meeks smiles at him, and Pitts shrugs, like 'What can you do?'<p>

"Thanks, guys," Todd mumbles.

Neil isn't back – or else he's hiding under the bed ready to scare the crap out of Todd, but he hasn't really been doing that lately. Ever hopeful, Todd checks anyway – then sighs, and gets ready for bed. He curls up with _A Brief History of Everything_ and tries to focus on the rise and fall of the Roman Empire, but all he can think about is Neil's accusing face, his pointing finger, his "_You_"; the way he cut Todd up in front of everyone; and the _hurt_. Todd never meant to hurt Neil – but maybe his ideas really do suck, maybe the other guys have been humouring him all this time, maybe everything that comes out of his mouth is, as he has always suspected, worthless rubbish.

The colour inset of the reconstructed Roman pottery goes blurry and Todd wipes his burning face with the back of his hand. He will not cry. Neil's the one who's been hurt. He doesn't deserve to cry. He _won't_.

Todd sniffs violently and lets out a slow breath, at which point, Neil comes through the door, covered in mud.

"Oh hey," says Todd, glancing up briefly, then returning to blink at the pages.

"Hey."

Neil quickly strips out of his dirty clothes and goes to the bathroom to wash up. When he returns, he perches on the edge of his own bed, hands clasped together in front of him. He is silent and brooding as he stares at the floor, like a pigeon. Todd wonders if he's fallen asleep, when suddenly he looks at Todd.

"So," says Neil. "You're still reading _A Brief History of Everything_?"

"Yeah." Todd finds himself holding the book up to show the spine, saying words without even planning to. "It turns out to not be so brief after all."

They laugh nervously, as if it might actually be funny.

_This is the closest thing we've had to a conversation in months_, thinks Todd. _Say something else. Anything. Don't be scared. Just talk._

"Oh, you have a bit of –" Todd waggles his finger at his own face to indicate the smear of mud above Neil's eyebrow.

Neil wipes at it hastily. "Yeah. Charlie beat me at soccer. With an imaginary ball. It was an imaginary ball and he still beat me."

Neil snorts, and Todd smiles at him.

"I'm going to be a doctor, Todd," Neil says, without missing a beat. He frowns at a spot on the opposite wall.

"I know." Todd nods. _Say more words. _"I think you'll make a good doctor."

"Really?" Neil's face is genuine; he's not baiting Todd this time.

"Yeah." Todd sits up, earnestly. "And I mean – that stuff Keating said about medicine and engineering being – noble pursuits, but poetry being what makes us human – I don't think that's quite true."

"Todd, are you disagreeing with a teacher?" Neil looks incredulous.

Todd ignores the challenge. "I mean – what about Meeks and Pitts working on their radio. They're engineers. And that's what they love, that's what they live for."

Neil sighs, and twists a loose thread from the blanket between his fingers. "I still don't like medicine, Todd. I don't _want_ to be a doctor. But he was just _lying_ _there_ – " His voice breaks at the same time as his body does, and he folds himself on the edge of the bed; not crying, but shaking uncontrollably.

Todd has never seen Neil like this, and it frightens him; not just how broken and vulnerable he is, but how much more painful it is to see Neil that way than it ever is to feel that way himself; and how very much worse he could make it if he gets it wrong this time.

But surely the worst thing is to do nothing at all. So he slips out of bed and sits gingerly next to Neil, before putting his arm around Neil's too-thin shoulders and drawing him close. Neil doesn't even hesitate as he clutches at Todd's t-shirt, the desperate grip of a drowning man.

So Todd holds him, because there is nothing else he can do, and that's okay. Eventually Neil stops shaking, and just sort of giggles.

"_Todd_," Neil says, and wraps his skinny hand around the back of Todd's neck, and presses their foreheads together. He whispers, eyes closed, "I killed my father – "

"Neil."

"I am a shit human being, Todd. What am I going to do?" He looks straight at Todd, and wipes his nose with the back of his hand.

Todd pulls out a handkerchief from the top pocket of his pyjamas. "Here."

Neil looks stunned for a moment, before blowing his nose loudly. "You carry handkerchiefs in your pyjamas?"

"My mother said if I show no other sign of being a great man, I should at least carry a handkerchief with me at all times."

"You're joking, right?"

"No."

They grin.

"It's okay, you keep it," says Todd, as Neil is uncertain about handing it back. "I've got a shoebox full of them at home. My grandmother gives me a new one every year."

"I believe you." Neil nods solemnly, folding the handkerchief neatly on his lap, smoothing out the edges as he talks. "Todd – I always thought there were two things in my life worth fighting for."

"Oh?" says Todd. He shuffles back on Neil's bed to lean against the wall.

"One of them was acting, and – if I can act as a doctor, I'll still do it, you know what I mean?"

"Sure, like maybe one of those clown doctors for children," says Todd, excitedly.

"Maybe." Neil laughs. "That's not really – anyway, the other thing is – don't go anywhere, will you, Todd? I mean not tonight, not tomorrow, not for the rest of – just –" He holds the handkerchief tight in his palm. "Even if I get angry. Even if I get scared. Even if I rip out all the pages of your big dumb book of everything, you'll stay here, won't you? With me."

Todd grabs his wrist, his too thin wrist with the bones and the beating pulse he can feel beneath his thumb. "Yes," he says. "I'll be here."


End file.
